


The Question

by solarvevo



Category: Detroit: Become Human
Genre: Christmas Time!!, F/M, Female Reader, Insert, Mistletoe, connors cute, mistletoe!!, one - Freeform, reader - Freeform, shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 22:10:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17671055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarvevo/pseuds/solarvevo
Summary: That's right. I'm going to address the question.Also I didn't proof read this and wrote it in the span of 30 minutes so enjoy!!-(Y/N), Hank's twenty-two year old daughter, has just returned from college, for Christmas break. Connor has moved in with Hank, who treats Connor like a son. When Connor and (Y/N) become romantically involved, Hank struggles to figure out what to consider Connor as.





	The Question

"(Y/N), meet Connor, Connor, meet (Y/N)." Hank spoke gruffly, pointing at the two of you whenever he said your respective names.

"Connor, is it?" (Y/N) took Connor's hand in her own, a brilliant smile on her face. "Nice name."

"—You're pretty!" Connor spat, his cheeks flushed a light blue, and it seemed as if he had short circuited. He spoke before his brain could catch up.

In response, your cheeks grew red. "Oh! Oh, um, thank you!"

Hank wanted to vomit. "Ew. Connor, keep your nasty android hands off my daughter."

Connor's eyes went wide, his blush growing deeper out of embarrassment. "Oh. Oh. No wonder her last name is Anderson..."

(Y/N) giggled awkwardly, still holding Connor's hand. They held hands for a slight moment, while Connor tried to compute whatever just happened. Neither Connor nor (Y/N) made an effort to move, so Hank interfered by slapping Connor's hand away.

"I'm watchin' you like a hawk." Hank hissed, getting close enough to Connor's face it made the android step backwards. "You're not going anywhere near my daughter."

"But Lieutenant, we live together...I presume (Y/N) is staying with us?"

It was Hank's turn to short circuit. "Well, ye— I mean, no? Agh, yes she is! But if I see you bein' nasty and flirting with her again, it'll be your balls on the Christmas tree."

 

Connor couldn't even keep it together for a day.

Hank found Connor and his daughter in the living room, dancing to some weird, gross Christmas music. All three had set up the Christmas tree together only ten minutes before, and Hank had gone to the bathroom for one second, one second, and Connor already had his hands on (Y/N). Her hands, to be specific, but still on her. They were doing some weird twisty jig when Hank came in.

"Connor! What did I say about touching (Y/N)?!"

 

The next time Hank caught the two of them together, they were watching some strange, old Christmas movie and cuddling on the couch. Cuddling, as in his-arm-around-her, with her-legs-draped-over-his-lap. There was a blanket covering the two of them, but Hank could tell because of the shape of the blanket.

Hank opened his mouth, flapping it like a fish out of water as he tried to find the words to say. Sighing, he decided to let it be this once and walk away. 

 

Walking into the living room on Christmas morning, Hank nearly had a heart attack. (Y/N) and Connor stood in the middle of the living room, kissing each other underneath the mistletoe (Y/N) was holding. Connor had his arms wrapped around (Y/N)'s waist, and (Y/N)'s hand that wasn't holding the mistletoe was cupping Connor's face.

"Connor!"

 

"Dad," (Y/N) glanced up at Connor, their hands held tightly together. "Connor and I, we're...we're dating."

Hank felt his soul leave his body.

"What?"

"Is your hearing getting worse, Lieutenant? (Y/N) said, 'We are dating.'" Connor leaned closer towards Hank, as if his hearing was the problem.

"My daughter's dating a piece of plastic..." Hank muttered, disoriented.

"I'm actually made of metal—"

"Dad? Do you need to sit down?" (Y/N) used her free hand to steady Hank.

"I must be dreaming. I'm gonna go back to bed and hope this is a dream." Hank walked right back into his bedroom, shutting the door promptly behind him.

"...I think we broke your dad."

 

This was gross.

This was infinitely gross.

Hank sat at the dining table, looking absolutely disgusted. On one end, sat (Y/N), his daughter, and on the other, was Connor. They were making goo-goo eyes at each other, smiling like dorks and having absolutely grotesque banter from across the table. Hank wanted to die. The food went cold in front of him, he was too nauseous from this display of affection to even try to ingest it. I mean, they were playing footsies under the table.

Hank was utterly distressed. Not only had his only daughter been snatched up by Connor, for fuck's sake, but he didn't know what to consider Connor anymore.

Previously, he thought of Connor as his mentally smart but stupid adopted son, but if that was still the case, then (Y/N) and Connor dating would be incest. Incest is gross, Hank concluded. So what in the world was Connor? He couldn't be just Hank's partner, I mean, he lived with the guy. Roommates was too cringe-worthy, and nothing else really fit but son.

Hank wanted to die.

He had a son that really wasn't his son but he also had a biological daughter. Them together would, logically, be incest but not really, because they weren't blood related.

Hank was going to give himself an aneurysm if he kept wondering. He decided to shove it to the back of his mind, similarly to how he shoveled chow mein into his mouth to distract himself.

 

The Question would remain unanswered. 

(Y/N) and Connor would end up getting married, forever plaguing Hank with The Question.

Hank wanted to die. He was happy, but wanted to die.


End file.
